Monday, August 29, 2011

Today there will be coffee. A lot of coffee. We are gearing up for kindergarten on Wednesday. The new Star Wars backpack sits atop Hayden's dresser, waiting to be filled with endless paperwork. We will pick his outfit later, together.

It's been a strange summer, full of violent weather, but I'm still sad to see it go.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I might also be listening to a mix of Bob Marley, Kings of Leon, and Bon Iver.

I could be trying to cheer myself up.

Sometimes you lose someone close to you--and not in the permanent sense--and you start to see them everywhere. Not "them" in their body, walking around, but "them" in the objects you're surrounded with. The vintage purse, the pair of shoes, the pile of pink fabric that will never be sewn into tiny, little-girl clothes.

Sometimes there is absolutely nothing you can do about the situation. You cry and your husband hugs you for a while and then you decide to eat your feelings so you make some jam and slather it on a thick piece of bread with butter.

You have tea.

You're still sad, but not as sad.

Basic Jam Recipe

Ingredients:
- any quantity of any kind of berries you love
- sugar
- water

Put a splash of water in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and turn the heat to med/high. Put your fruit in and bring it to a nice bubble. Cover the fruit with a thin layer of sugar and mix in. Let it bubble away for about 30 minutes, checking on it to make sure it doesn't burn or stick. You can add more sugar or less depending on your taste. Less sugar will make a runnier jam because it's the sugar that thickens the fruits juices into a syrup.

Once you've got it to the consistency and taste you're looking for, turn it off and let cool before putting into jars.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Imagine linen,not as an object butas a feeling:A falling over your handsand wrists fluidly,watering you, feathered.Whisper-soft in its parachuting down,sliding off scratched wood.Carried to the wash room;armful of plush peonies.A thousand words and stainsbleached-out to silk.

Monday, August 8, 2011

I really enjoy mommy-blogs. Especially if the mommy's writing them are a little bit like me, creative types who paint/sew/sculpt/doodle/photograph while trying to keep their kids from the brink of insanity and also keep their husbands happy. I love seeing different parenting styles and picking up tips from mom's-who-know about rainy-day activities, and first days of school, and healthy-but-they-won't-know-that meals.

I don't see a lot of the other side though...the struggle of being a mother and wife and trying to keep everyone happy. Not perfect, but happy and functioning and on some type of schedule. And finding time to create and knowing that if you do the house is going to fall apart even more than it already is, and you just have to ignore it. Or not and go into cleaning-nazi mode and be pissed off at everyone because they aren't really chipping in that much.

Sigh.

I feel silly. I love my life but am so annoyed by it so much of the time. Does that makes sense? Actually, I don't just feel silly. I feel like a raging bitch a lot of the time, like I have snakes writhing around all over my head. Hayden don't do that, Hayden don't do that, Hayden stop touching that, Hayden you can't have that right now, no no no, honey, please don't give him that, honey he can't have ice-cream right now, I'm putting dinner on the table. And on it goes. I think I get tired of being the one who scolds alllllllllll the time. If I had a native american name it would be She-Who-Yells-With-The-Scratchy-Throat.

Sometimes though--miracle of miracles--both the husband and the boy are gone at the same time. I KNOW. And then I'll finish up the laundry, and put the final touches on that painting that's been sitting in my studio for about 2 weeks untouched, or I'll go on a sewing marathon, or I'll go for a really long run, or I'll go away and won't tell anyone where I'm going or that I've even been anywhere in the first place. And it feels so good, sometimes I just get down on my knees and thank God for the solitude.

The funny part of this is that usually, no more than two or three hours into being alone, I start to miss them. I start to get lonely and distracted and a little bothered by the silence in the house. I have to laugh because when I'm in the thick of the madness, when it's been one thing after another for what seems like forever, I'll say, "Oh my God, what I wouldn't give for a week to myself."

Monday, August 1, 2011

So the far, it's been a good summer (especially considering that there is no vacation in sight this year). But we're making due--cooking out with friends and family, busting our butts gardening and sprucing up the house. I continue to paint and stitch, hub continutes to click his camera, and the boy torments us (lovingly, of course) through it all.

I don't have too much on the agenda this week. Work on a few new purses and a pair of linen pants, cuddle up with the boy and watch movies, go for some sunset runs. Ambitious, I tell you.